Every time I post something that some consider "negative" I get a little flurry of emails and messages urging me to think more positively. The latest was a Facebook post when I mentioned that the weekend had not been the respite I had hoped. Care for my father who has advanced Alzheimer's had required a lot of driving and some difficult decision-making so I was offering up a little prayer that my sleep be deep and replenishing.
Several people wrote to tell me I was making myself tired by acknowledging this condition, suggesting that I simply keep saying to myself, "I am not tired. I am full of energy."
Now, I know that how we view conditions- both inner and outer- profoundly impacts our experience. But I was tired- not dying, not angry about being tired, not panicked or catastrophizing in any way. Because I could acknowledge I was tired, I went to bed early.
What bothers me about this so-called positive thinking is that it assumes that all thoughts of what is, when what is does not meet our ideals, are negative. There are often truly positive things that come out of days when I am tired and can acknowledge it- I deepen my kindness toward self and my compassion for others who are not having a full-throttle day. Tired isn't in itself negative or positive- sometimes it's just what is.
Fundamentalist positive thinking implies that acknowledging conditions creates them, and that denying what is will instantly create desirable change. But while we are human beings we are embodied souls/ ensouled bodies living in a physical reality prescribed by certain conditions. If I jump off the roof of my building with only positive thoughts about flying, I'm still going to hit the ground, because gravity trumps thinking in the experience of falling.
If we don't honour the physical realities of being an ensouled body, we aren't likely to honour the very real conditions of living on a physical planet- and this is really what concerns me. An economic system that relies on and tries to create infinite growth on a finite planet ultimately can't work. And just having positive thoughts that it will all be okay is not enough to change our unsustainable growth and voracious accumulation of stuff. We can't think away the garbage we've put in the ocean, and if we believe that thinking about that garbage is what creates it, we're not likely to do the thinking necessary to find a way to repair and stop the on-going damage so that life can be renewed and sustained.
Denial isn't just unnecessary, it's dangerous.
I have tremendous faith in human ingenuity, creativity and the inspiration that comes when we are aligned with Life and Spirit. But all of that happens within the very real conditions of being here- and being here is a gift. I want to receive that gift in all aspects- those I find easy and those I find not-so-easy with my eyes and my heart wide open, and in deep gratitude.
Oriah (c) 2014
Wednesday, May 28, 2014
Wednesday, May 21, 2014
Two Ways To Avoid Being a Menace
I've noticed two very common ways we get into or create trouble. You know, the places where we do not do what we know (at other times) is good for us or the world; the moments when we are baffled that others could misunderstand or react to us as they seem to be doing; the occasions where (in hindsight) we inexplicably did something that created unproductive chaos and confusion for ourselves or others.
Many how-to missives boil things down to numerical lists: Six Ways to Enlightenment; or Seven Steps to Being All You Can Be; or Thirteen Things You Must Know About. . . Women, or Men, or Cats, or Your Colon etc. etc. Finally, I can add to the number-loving trend. Because it seems to me that there are two primary tasks that need tending if we want to maximize acting on our best intentions and minimize wreaking havoc on ourselves or others. We need to:
1) Recognize and be with our anxiety when it arises in ways that do no harm.
2) Set and keep clear, healthy boundaries with others.
Anxiety arises. It's part of the human experience. Sometimes it is caused by external conditions and sometimes it seems to arise on its own, perhaps pointing to an inner concern that isn't even conscious. Or, maybe we just watched the late night news. Life is a wild and woolly place that includes anxiety-provoking pain and loss.
Recognizing anxiety can be tricky since everyone's moments (or months) of inner mayhem show up in different ways- mysterious tears or laughter; loss of memory or focus; hyperactivity or paralysing procrastination etc.
People are not, on the whole, masochistic. That's why we often reach for something- anything!- to deal with anxiety. Anxiety is uncomfortable and cake or alcohol or overwork or hours of television (and a thousand other things- in this human beings are endlessly creative) can numb us to its raw edge. But numbing to discomfort, numbs us to joy. So, having other, skilful ways to be with anxiety (regular meditation, exercise, skilful distraction etc.) keeps us open to life's beauty even as we may be experiencing this inevitable aspect of being human.
Boundaries- or rather, the lack of them- is often a source of anxiety. If I don't know where I end and you begin, if I can't tell if something is my business or yours, or ours, or that which belongs to something sacred and bigger than the two of us together, I am likely to feel easily overwhelmed and overburdened- and that can create anxiety.
I was raised by a mother who had no sense of boundaries. She spoke always of "us" and "our" (meaning her and I) - as in, "our thighs are heavy," (I was a skinny nine year old!) or "we don't go along with that," (which referred to any of the many things she found unacceptable in other people, including me.)
Knowing that my mother's take on things was just that- hers- and not about me, took some work (and years.) But not getting continually emotionally batted around like a ping pong ball by other people's opinions, perspectives, agendas, or concerns is what lets us remain open and connected. Otherwise, we'd get so overwhelmed we'd hide in the woods. (Not that I haven't done that- I have- but I prefer to have real choice about embracing times of solitude or being with others.)
Here's the tricky part for us "spiritual" types: Being rooted in a sense of our deepest soul-self may seem like the "cure" for both of these challenges. After all, if we are aware and awake to the true nature of inner and outer reality doesn't that banish anxiety and offer us clarity about where our attention is required?
Well, yes. . . and no. Being soul-centred helps us hold our humanness tenderly and without judgement- and that goes a long way in easing anxiety, and discerning boundaries. But there is no cure for being human- and that's a good thing. Because the gift of being here is found not in separating from our experience, but in embracing and learning from life as an embodied soul/ensouled body- as one small, gloriously messy and spectacularly beautiful human being!
Oriah House (c) 2014
Many how-to missives boil things down to numerical lists: Six Ways to Enlightenment; or Seven Steps to Being All You Can Be; or Thirteen Things You Must Know About. . . Women, or Men, or Cats, or Your Colon etc. etc. Finally, I can add to the number-loving trend. Because it seems to me that there are two primary tasks that need tending if we want to maximize acting on our best intentions and minimize wreaking havoc on ourselves or others. We need to:
1) Recognize and be with our anxiety when it arises in ways that do no harm.
2) Set and keep clear, healthy boundaries with others.
Anxiety arises. It's part of the human experience. Sometimes it is caused by external conditions and sometimes it seems to arise on its own, perhaps pointing to an inner concern that isn't even conscious. Or, maybe we just watched the late night news. Life is a wild and woolly place that includes anxiety-provoking pain and loss.
Recognizing anxiety can be tricky since everyone's moments (or months) of inner mayhem show up in different ways- mysterious tears or laughter; loss of memory or focus; hyperactivity or paralysing procrastination etc.
People are not, on the whole, masochistic. That's why we often reach for something- anything!- to deal with anxiety. Anxiety is uncomfortable and cake or alcohol or overwork or hours of television (and a thousand other things- in this human beings are endlessly creative) can numb us to its raw edge. But numbing to discomfort, numbs us to joy. So, having other, skilful ways to be with anxiety (regular meditation, exercise, skilful distraction etc.) keeps us open to life's beauty even as we may be experiencing this inevitable aspect of being human.
Boundaries- or rather, the lack of them- is often a source of anxiety. If I don't know where I end and you begin, if I can't tell if something is my business or yours, or ours, or that which belongs to something sacred and bigger than the two of us together, I am likely to feel easily overwhelmed and overburdened- and that can create anxiety.
I was raised by a mother who had no sense of boundaries. She spoke always of "us" and "our" (meaning her and I) - as in, "our thighs are heavy," (I was a skinny nine year old!) or "we don't go along with that," (which referred to any of the many things she found unacceptable in other people, including me.)
Knowing that my mother's take on things was just that- hers- and not about me, took some work (and years.) But not getting continually emotionally batted around like a ping pong ball by other people's opinions, perspectives, agendas, or concerns is what lets us remain open and connected. Otherwise, we'd get so overwhelmed we'd hide in the woods. (Not that I haven't done that- I have- but I prefer to have real choice about embracing times of solitude or being with others.)
Here's the tricky part for us "spiritual" types: Being rooted in a sense of our deepest soul-self may seem like the "cure" for both of these challenges. After all, if we are aware and awake to the true nature of inner and outer reality doesn't that banish anxiety and offer us clarity about where our attention is required?
Well, yes. . . and no. Being soul-centred helps us hold our humanness tenderly and without judgement- and that goes a long way in easing anxiety, and discerning boundaries. But there is no cure for being human- and that's a good thing. Because the gift of being here is found not in separating from our experience, but in embracing and learning from life as an embodied soul/ensouled body- as one small, gloriously messy and spectacularly beautiful human being!
Oriah House (c) 2014
Wednesday, May 14, 2014
The Gift of Resentment
Oh I know what you're thinking: How could resentment- that nasty, sticky, often covert anger that drains us of energy and blocks access to joy- ever be a gift?
Well, here's what I've discovered: Every time I feel resentment about something someone has said or done, I uncover a place (and it takes a little work to drag this sucker up out of the depths where I've hidden it) where I've unconsciously made some kind of "deal" that I feel has been violated. Usually the deal involved me making some kind of sacrifice (keeping quiet where I wanted to speak up; taking responsibility for something or someone when I wanted to lay down and rest etc.) in exchange for some kind of reward (being loved or seen or forgiven, belonging etc.)
When these resentments arise around other people the first question we need to ask is: Was this ever an explicit deal made with the other? For instance, did s/he know that I was silent about being hurt by their comments so they would overlook any unskilful communication from me? The answer is usually, No. The other didn't even know there was a deal. Not that people don't sometimes break clear agreements- but I have found that those violations are easier to speak to (because they were explicit) and the feelings they stir are often cleaner and more short-lived than smouldering semi-conscious resentment.
Sometimes these secret deals (as in ones I often don't even acknowledge to myself) aren't with other people but with some kind of higher power- God, the divine, the Universe- that I am vaguely hoping will reward unasked-for sacrifice with things I know are not earned- like perfect health and inner peace for myself and those I love.
And I know I am not the only one secretly playing Let's Make a Deal with God. Recently, someone confessed to me that she was hoping that giving up chocolate would mean her house would sell quickly for a good price. She was a smart woman, but she gave up chocolate just in case.
Resentment is a gift because it points to something unconscious and gives me a chance to bring it to consciousness. When I bring a bit of gentle curiosity to resentment I discover unconscious deals made and broken. It usually makes me shake my head and quietly laugh. And quiet laughter dissolves resentment, lets us hold that small crazy inner deal-maker tenderly, reassuring her that she does not have to wheel and deal for the beauty of life with all of its inherent rewards and challenges. All she has to do is receive the gift of one small, spectacular human life.
Oriah House (c) 2014
Well, here's what I've discovered: Every time I feel resentment about something someone has said or done, I uncover a place (and it takes a little work to drag this sucker up out of the depths where I've hidden it) where I've unconsciously made some kind of "deal" that I feel has been violated. Usually the deal involved me making some kind of sacrifice (keeping quiet where I wanted to speak up; taking responsibility for something or someone when I wanted to lay down and rest etc.) in exchange for some kind of reward (being loved or seen or forgiven, belonging etc.)
When these resentments arise around other people the first question we need to ask is: Was this ever an explicit deal made with the other? For instance, did s/he know that I was silent about being hurt by their comments so they would overlook any unskilful communication from me? The answer is usually, No. The other didn't even know there was a deal. Not that people don't sometimes break clear agreements- but I have found that those violations are easier to speak to (because they were explicit) and the feelings they stir are often cleaner and more short-lived than smouldering semi-conscious resentment.
Sometimes these secret deals (as in ones I often don't even acknowledge to myself) aren't with other people but with some kind of higher power- God, the divine, the Universe- that I am vaguely hoping will reward unasked-for sacrifice with things I know are not earned- like perfect health and inner peace for myself and those I love.
And I know I am not the only one secretly playing Let's Make a Deal with God. Recently, someone confessed to me that she was hoping that giving up chocolate would mean her house would sell quickly for a good price. She was a smart woman, but she gave up chocolate just in case.
Resentment is a gift because it points to something unconscious and gives me a chance to bring it to consciousness. When I bring a bit of gentle curiosity to resentment I discover unconscious deals made and broken. It usually makes me shake my head and quietly laugh. And quiet laughter dissolves resentment, lets us hold that small crazy inner deal-maker tenderly, reassuring her that she does not have to wheel and deal for the beauty of life with all of its inherent rewards and challenges. All she has to do is receive the gift of one small, spectacular human life.
Oriah House (c) 2014
Wednesday, May 7, 2014
How To Let Go
This week I had a chance to consider letting go in a new light. I've written before about how I rarely find the admonishment to "let go" helpful when I'm hanging on by my finger tips, even when I can see that what I am hanging on to is not particularly useful. I have found the inner directive to "let it be" somewhat more fruitful in helping me loosen a desperate grasp and rest in what is.
Letting go of beliefs or mental/emotional preoccupations that are causing suffering isn't so much an intellectual decision (oh that it was- most of us can see when it's not doing us any good!) If we believe it is we'll probably bury what we think we "should" let go of in our unconscious- and that only makes matters worse. Now we're hanging on, but we aren't consciously aware of hanging, so how could we possibly let go? Not a step in the right direction.
At the beginning of a yoga class last week, the instructor urged us to rest deeply while laying on the floor. And then she said, "Make sure you have what you need to lay on the floor comfortably- because your muscles can't let go if you're uncomfortable, if the way you are laying down is causing strain. If you can find a comfortable way to be here, your body can let go much more deeply."
And something in my brain lit up as I thought, "Oooooo, what would that look like when we need to let go mentally or emotionally? What might help us find a supported position emotionally or mentally from which we could more easily and deeply let go of preoccupations that are causing us suffering?
The first things that came to my mind were tenderness and mercy. When I slip into the feeling of tenderness, of holding my own or another's thoughts and emotions without judgement but with a sense of real caring, I am more comfortable with whatever arises- and I can let go of those thoughts or emotions more easily, allow them to rise and fall, to appear and pass away. It is, strangely, the very act of judging and tightening against what arises that makes it hard to let go.
We often think that trying harder will get us where we want to go. And sometimes, it does. But in the letting-go-endeavours- whether physical, mental or emotional- finding an inner or outer place where we can rest comfortably with what is, is much more likely to help us truly let go where we may have been unintentionally holding on.
Oriah House (c) 2014
Letting go of beliefs or mental/emotional preoccupations that are causing suffering isn't so much an intellectual decision (oh that it was- most of us can see when it's not doing us any good!) If we believe it is we'll probably bury what we think we "should" let go of in our unconscious- and that only makes matters worse. Now we're hanging on, but we aren't consciously aware of hanging, so how could we possibly let go? Not a step in the right direction.
At the beginning of a yoga class last week, the instructor urged us to rest deeply while laying on the floor. And then she said, "Make sure you have what you need to lay on the floor comfortably- because your muscles can't let go if you're uncomfortable, if the way you are laying down is causing strain. If you can find a comfortable way to be here, your body can let go much more deeply."
And something in my brain lit up as I thought, "Oooooo, what would that look like when we need to let go mentally or emotionally? What might help us find a supported position emotionally or mentally from which we could more easily and deeply let go of preoccupations that are causing us suffering?
The first things that came to my mind were tenderness and mercy. When I slip into the feeling of tenderness, of holding my own or another's thoughts and emotions without judgement but with a sense of real caring, I am more comfortable with whatever arises- and I can let go of those thoughts or emotions more easily, allow them to rise and fall, to appear and pass away. It is, strangely, the very act of judging and tightening against what arises that makes it hard to let go.
We often think that trying harder will get us where we want to go. And sometimes, it does. But in the letting-go-endeavours- whether physical, mental or emotional- finding an inner or outer place where we can rest comfortably with what is, is much more likely to help us truly let go where we may have been unintentionally holding on.
Oriah House (c) 2014
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Dying
There is so much we do not know- particularly about the journey of the soul during those big transitions of birth and death.
For the last year, visits to my father have been heart-breaking. Confined now to a wheelchair with advanced Alzheimer's he responded to my presence by sobbing and begging me to "Help!" over and over. He was clearly suffering, and I took his call for help to be an expression of his desire to leave this life. And who could blame him
Recently my father had an infection and I was called upon to determine what level of medical care should be offered. I asked that he be given palliative care- care that would keep him comfortable but not keep him alive if his body was dying. The next week he rallied, seeming to shake off the immediate infection, but remained in palliative care. He was weaned off all medications.
And then something new happened: he became very calm. Last week when my eldest son and I went to see him he was not agitated or crying at all. He also did not seem very present. When I spoke to him there was the briefest flicker in his eyes, and then he receded back to whatever was happening for him elsewhere. He'd just woken up from a nap and was lying in bed, deeply relaxed, . . .fading. . . shrinking. . . sinking into the bed, and (I imagined) physically returning to the earth. There was a new and different kind of ache in my chest to see him leaving, to not be able to connect with him, but I could not help but be relieved and grateful that he did not seem to be suffering as he had for so long.
Trained in shamanic medicine I've been honoured to be companion in the dying process for some, have left my body and journeyed with an individual who was on the edge of death. I know that there is often a process of going out and coming back, a time of wandering in the inbetween.
It reminds me of birthing- probably in part because today is my youngest son's birthday. Thirty-one years ago, he was born at home as planned, all twelve pounds and ten ounces of him. I was guided by a midwife who allowed that process to unfold and supported me in being present with my body wisdom to ensure safe delivery of this small (okay, not so small) new life.
Each person's needs, abilities, resources and preferences are unique. But it occurs to me, watching my father and remembering my son's birth, that the processes of birthing and dying may be more similar than they appear, may involve things on a soul level that we cannot perceive.
Acknowledging there is much we cannot know, it would seem wise to err on the side of patience and loving care, to allow the process to unfold with maximum support and minimum interference. I am filled with appreciation for the men and women who are caring for my father daily at the long term care facility where he lives. They do so with good humour and great tenderness. They are truly the midwives to his dying, and I am deeply grateful.
Oriah House (c) 2014
For the last year, visits to my father have been heart-breaking. Confined now to a wheelchair with advanced Alzheimer's he responded to my presence by sobbing and begging me to "Help!" over and over. He was clearly suffering, and I took his call for help to be an expression of his desire to leave this life. And who could blame him
Recently my father had an infection and I was called upon to determine what level of medical care should be offered. I asked that he be given palliative care- care that would keep him comfortable but not keep him alive if his body was dying. The next week he rallied, seeming to shake off the immediate infection, but remained in palliative care. He was weaned off all medications.
And then something new happened: he became very calm. Last week when my eldest son and I went to see him he was not agitated or crying at all. He also did not seem very present. When I spoke to him there was the briefest flicker in his eyes, and then he receded back to whatever was happening for him elsewhere. He'd just woken up from a nap and was lying in bed, deeply relaxed, . . .fading. . . shrinking. . . sinking into the bed, and (I imagined) physically returning to the earth. There was a new and different kind of ache in my chest to see him leaving, to not be able to connect with him, but I could not help but be relieved and grateful that he did not seem to be suffering as he had for so long.
Trained in shamanic medicine I've been honoured to be companion in the dying process for some, have left my body and journeyed with an individual who was on the edge of death. I know that there is often a process of going out and coming back, a time of wandering in the inbetween.
It reminds me of birthing- probably in part because today is my youngest son's birthday. Thirty-one years ago, he was born at home as planned, all twelve pounds and ten ounces of him. I was guided by a midwife who allowed that process to unfold and supported me in being present with my body wisdom to ensure safe delivery of this small (okay, not so small) new life.
Each person's needs, abilities, resources and preferences are unique. But it occurs to me, watching my father and remembering my son's birth, that the processes of birthing and dying may be more similar than they appear, may involve things on a soul level that we cannot perceive.
Acknowledging there is much we cannot know, it would seem wise to err on the side of patience and loving care, to allow the process to unfold with maximum support and minimum interference. I am filled with appreciation for the men and women who are caring for my father daily at the long term care facility where he lives. They do so with good humour and great tenderness. They are truly the midwives to his dying, and I am deeply grateful.
Oriah House (c) 2014
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Who Doesn't "Get It?"
"They just don't get it!"
Ever thought or felt this? I have, and I've heard it many times from retreat participants and clients. Who are we talking about? Sometimes we're running commentary on the general populace but more often, if our level of frustration is high, we're talking about people in our lives- family, friends, co-workers. . . people whose choices impact our lives.
And what's the "it" that "they" are not getting?
Well, if the complaint is made with a wail of incredulity, it's often something about us- something we feel is important, something we feel we've been communicating consistently.
I work with a lot of people who have chronic illness, and I often hear, "They just don't get it!" in reference to the failure of other people to comprehend current physical limitations. At other times though, I've heard this same complaint about treasured values and ways of perceiving the world or living our lives.
Why don't "they" get it? Because it's not always easy to understand fully the experience of another. Because we say one thing ("I'm really am not able to attend a day-long event;" or "Doing art is central to my well-being;") and then do something else (show up at a day-long event; fill our time with everything but the art we say is critical.) Because people are more likely to believe our actions than our words.
Because we don't get it.
I'm not saying that if we really get and live by the conditions and values we recognize as our own that everyone else will. But most of the time, the reason the people who matter to us do not get what we say is true in our lives is because our behaviour does not match our words, because we are still internally quibbling or in denial about the thing we want others to grasp.
The good news is that every time I feel frustration about someone expecting or wanting me to do something that is just not a fit for me (after I think I have made that clear,) every time I think "S/he just doesn't get it!" I pause and consider: Is there something that I am resisting, some form of inner denial that renders my words hard to believe?
Maybe I don't really want to attend an event but think I "should" and so am using my physical limitations where they don't really apply. Maybe I keep doing what I say I can't and paying the cost later when I am alone. Can I give myself permission to live in alignment with what I know is true for me right now (re: preferences, values, choices, conditions, probable consequences etc.) without agreement from others (who are bound to have their own preferences, values, choices. . . .) ?
Most of the time, what I desperately want someone else to get about me and my life, is something I am just not getting, something I need to be with, facing whatever feelings the realities I don't want to get stirs in me.
So I offer a little prayer of gratitude for the other who didn't "get" what I thought I wanted them to "get." They point me to the places where I need to pay attention, need to be with what I just don't want to "get," hopefully with tenderness and mercy.
Oriah House (c) 2014
Ever thought or felt this? I have, and I've heard it many times from retreat participants and clients. Who are we talking about? Sometimes we're running commentary on the general populace but more often, if our level of frustration is high, we're talking about people in our lives- family, friends, co-workers. . . people whose choices impact our lives.
And what's the "it" that "they" are not getting?
Well, if the complaint is made with a wail of incredulity, it's often something about us- something we feel is important, something we feel we've been communicating consistently.
I work with a lot of people who have chronic illness, and I often hear, "They just don't get it!" in reference to the failure of other people to comprehend current physical limitations. At other times though, I've heard this same complaint about treasured values and ways of perceiving the world or living our lives.
Why don't "they" get it? Because it's not always easy to understand fully the experience of another. Because we say one thing ("I'm really am not able to attend a day-long event;" or "Doing art is central to my well-being;") and then do something else (show up at a day-long event; fill our time with everything but the art we say is critical.) Because people are more likely to believe our actions than our words.
Because we don't get it.
I'm not saying that if we really get and live by the conditions and values we recognize as our own that everyone else will. But most of the time, the reason the people who matter to us do not get what we say is true in our lives is because our behaviour does not match our words, because we are still internally quibbling or in denial about the thing we want others to grasp.
The good news is that every time I feel frustration about someone expecting or wanting me to do something that is just not a fit for me (after I think I have made that clear,) every time I think "S/he just doesn't get it!" I pause and consider: Is there something that I am resisting, some form of inner denial that renders my words hard to believe?
Maybe I don't really want to attend an event but think I "should" and so am using my physical limitations where they don't really apply. Maybe I keep doing what I say I can't and paying the cost later when I am alone. Can I give myself permission to live in alignment with what I know is true for me right now (re: preferences, values, choices, conditions, probable consequences etc.) without agreement from others (who are bound to have their own preferences, values, choices. . . .) ?
Most of the time, what I desperately want someone else to get about me and my life, is something I am just not getting, something I need to be with, facing whatever feelings the realities I don't want to get stirs in me.
So I offer a little prayer of gratitude for the other who didn't "get" what I thought I wanted them to "get." They point me to the places where I need to pay attention, need to be with what I just don't want to "get," hopefully with tenderness and mercy.
Oriah House (c) 2014
Wednesday, April 16, 2014
When Good People Do Bad Things, And. . . .
I admit it: at moments, I can be a little bit of a contrarian. Even when I agree with something, part of me often silently mutters, "Yeah. . . but what about. . . . " Some of this is just what mind does- it wonders, questions, and puzzles over things for fun. And some of it is that I am fascinated by how a truth that helped me in one moment is sometimes not so helpful in another.
You've probably seen a piece floating around the internet titled "Anyway." Apparently it is based on eight of the ten "Paradoxical Commandments" written by Kent M Keith in 1968.(http://www.paradoxicalcommandments.com)The version I've shared below is the shorter one that Mother Teresa had up on the wall of her children's home in Calcutta.
When I'm in a snarly mood (usually because I'm over-tired) and feeling like an imaginary deal whereby I was promised some kind of reward for doing the right thing has been thwarted, this piece is very helpful. It reminds me that behaving well is something I would really like to do for my own sake.
But, at other times- times when by grace I am more centred and less confused- I long for something a little more affirming of the human potential for goodness and sanity.
So I wrote a piece in response to the "Anyway" version of "The Paradoxical Commandments," not as a criticism or a rebuttal, but perhaps as a companion piece. Grateful for the creative stirring the original offered, I don't think one replaces the other. People are at times unreasonable, self-centred, unkind, dishonest etc. And. . . people can also be reasonable, generous, kind, honest etc.
Some of the time we need to be reminded that what matters most needs to be done without promise of reward for its own sake. And, at times, we are able to truly see the best in ourselves and others.
"Anyway" (as presented by Mother Teresa, based on "The Paradoxical Commandments" by Kent M. Keith)
People are often unreasonable and self-centred.
People are often unreasonable and self-centred.
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you.
Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are honest, people may cheat you.
Be honest anyway.
If you find happiness, people may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today may be forgotten tomorrow.
Do good anyway.
Give the world the best you have and it may never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
For you see, in the end, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway.
"And. . . ." by Oriah
People are reasonable and generous.
May we give them every opportunity to show us this.
If we are kind, people will most likely trust us.
May we hold that trust as sacred.
If we are honest, people will do their best to treat us fairly.
May we support their efforts to do so with appreciation and presence.
When we find happiness, others will be drawn to us.
May we share our happiness when it arises,
and lean into each other's happiness when ours is hard to find.
and lean into each other's happiness when ours is hard to find.
The good we do
ripples out in unseen ways.
May we trust this without
knowing precisely how this shapes the world.
May we give the world our
best.
It is enough.
In the beginning, the
end and all points in between, it is always about us and the Mystery.
May we know ourselves and
every other as a manifestation of the Light of the Divine.
Oriah House (c) 2014
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